The Lonely Path | Teen Ink

The Lonely Path

March 7, 2014
By IThoughtThisWasAnEasyA SILVER, Manitowoc, Wisconsin
IThoughtThisWasAnEasyA SILVER, Manitowoc, Wisconsin
5 articles 0 photos 3 comments

Trees engulfed the landscape and the feeling of petrichor and honeydew floated through the dulcet air. Soon, Dawn’s rosy fingers were stretching themselves past the horizons and soft shadows faded in response to the orange and yellow hues. The birds must have found this enjoyable enough to begin an assemblage of caws and chirps. Sure enough, the loud display of affection for day caused the man to stretch and open his eyes at the bucolic scene. What a contrast it seemed to last night. After all, It was only yesterday that he had hope, only yesterday that he thought his wandering was over. Now it was today and he was stranded, in the middle of the woods with no purpose or goal, no meaning. He started the engine to his car, only to hear the too familiar ‘put put’ sound of a dead engine. He would have to walk.

He hopped out of the front seat and let his dogs out after him. After a quick pee the man set off with his dog following him and her pups gamboling behind both. It only took a few minutes to realize how far out he had come. The road was dirt orange. Flecks of gravel could be seen mixed in with the mud, this road turned into gravel farther down. The man continued to follow the road for what seemed like hours upon hours. Not long after the road turned into gravel, it turned into familiar asphalt.

He stopped and looked ahead. He was exiting the forest, and he had come to a cross roads. To his right lay a newly constructed, fast, highway entrance ramp. Cars seemed to fly by at speeds he couldn’t imagine. The road was a deep black and smooth like a baby’s bottom. People in the cars yapped on telephones, or hollered at screaming children in the back seat. It would be easy to find someone who could help him there, at least one person should help him if he needed it. That road was comfortable, that road was busy.

To his left laid a small inlet road made of mud and overgrown with trees to each side. No one was on this road, no person, no soul drove on that road. It was quiet, and rustic. It was lonely, it was safe.

“Decisions, Decisions…” thought the man. But finally he decided. He would take the quiet road, he would be alone.



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